


when I'm next to you I'm home

by karasunotsubasa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Butt Slapping, Caring, Come Swallowing, Cooking, Couch Cuddles, Crying, Dancing, Dancing in the Rain, Deepthroating, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Victuuri Week, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fluff, I swear, M/M, Pet Names, Sickfic, Smut, fiance's prerogative, get schooled, not smut but nsfw, ridiculous fluff, shit so fluffy ur gonna puke, that's about it I think lol, victor is a fucking gentleman yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa
Summary: There are many things that can be said about Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov, but one thing everyone seems to agree on: they are domestic af.





	1. mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Yuuri plays a game that leaves Victor wanting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's a little something for day 1 of [domestic victuuri week](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt mischief  
> hope yall enjoy ;3c

 

The first time it happened, Victor was in shock.

"Did you just..." he turned around in time to see the tail end of Yuuri's smirk before it disappeared.

"Did I what?" Yuuri asked, blinking. A picture of innocence.

Victor opened his mouth and then closed it. If this was how Yuuri wanted to play it, then so be it.

He smiled, and said: "Oh, nothing! I must've imagined it."

The next time it happened, Victor was more prepared, but that, in the end, didn't mean much. He was once again caught by surprise. His hands were full with the plates he was stacking into one of the cupboards when Yuuri passed him by on the way to the fridge.

And there it was. A pat on his ass, a tiny squeeze and a pinch. Victor almost dropped the plates.

"Yuuri!"

"Yes?"

He looked just as innocent as the first time, but Victor was sure of what he'd felt this time and Yuuri's innocent face was not fooling him. This was certainly not an accident, not that the first one was either. Victor pursed his lips together.

Thing was, he didn't mind Yuuri's hands on his ass – quite the opposite, in fact. He'd welcome them anytime, anyplace, and more than just hands. But the fact was that Yuuri seemed to purposefully pick the times when Victor's hands were otherwise occupied and he couldn't reciprocate, like when he was hanging the laundry or... it was truly unfair.

"I'm holding the palates," Victor chided his playful fiancé, who even now was playing his best card.

"Yes?" Yuuri blinked at him.

He turned around from where he was taking a bottle of water out, bent over temptingly to give Victor the best view of his mouthwatering thighs and beautiful, squeezworthy ass wrapped only in sweatpants. Victor was not a patient man, not in face of such divinity.

"Do you want help with that?" Yuuri asked, as if he had no idea what Victor was staring at or what thoughts were raging war inside his head.

"I–" Victor paused. What were they talking about again? "No, I'm fine."

He was not fine. Not by far. But Yuuri had thankfully straightened up now and took his

"Okay," was thrown over his shoulder.

Victor felt a little like screaming.

Yuuri was gone. Back to the couch. Watching some dumb Russian reality TV.

And he'd just left Victor confused and aching with no explanation and no solution to a very tight and uncomfortable problem in his pants. Biting his tongue to distract himself, Victor turned back to stockpile the plates in their rightful place.

He might have let the incidents slip his mind, given enough time, except... It happened again. And again. And again... As if Yuuri was playing a game with him, one that Victor didn't know the rules of. Little was to say, he was losing spectacularly at it, too.

When Victor was gathering up dirty clothes into the hamper to have them washed later and a fleeting touch of Yuuri's familiar hand on his butt made him pause. When he was tying his shoes right before their morning run and Yuuri's fingers slid across the smooth material of his sweats, not a caress, but a form of petting that made Victor's cheeks flush just a little. When they were out shopping and Victor insisted he needed a new pair of pants and Yuuri, while pretending to watch Victor's reflection had sneaked his hand into the backside pocket and _squeezed_ with the excuse of checking the stretch since "I know you love keeping your phone there. It has to be big enough to fit it, right?"

Victor didn't know what was happening, or what he'd done to deserve this kind of teasing, but he knew two things: one, it was confusing, because Yuuri always pretended like he hadn't done anything at all; and two, the small touches were driving him insane with lust, because once he'd tasted it, he wanted more, and more Yuuri had refused to give him.

So for the next time Victor had decided to take matters into his own hands.

It was a rink day, their practice going from dawn till dusk. They arrived fairly early, so no one was there yet except for Yuuri and Victor, and Yakov still somewhere in his office. Victor's blood was already buzzing from watching Yuuri work, but once Yuuri had landed the final quad of the practice, he could feel the subtle shift in his mood – the jump from pride to arousal seemed to be the easiest of all for Victor these days, and the proof was right there in his tented sweats.

"You did incredibly today, Yuuri," Victor praised, happy with the way Yuuri's flushed cheeks looked in the bright overhead lights. "Maybe I should come up with some reward for you? To keep you this motivated."

Yuuri shook his head with a beautiful smile. "I don't need anything, Victor, really. Just being here with you is enough. That's all I want."

Victor hummed. He was about to offer a thorough massage, one with a _very_ happy ending, but before he could, Yakov had burst through the door in full coach mode. With the peace and quiet of their time alone broken, Victor pushed away his disappointment. And the thoughts of heavy petting that he was already indulging in. Damn it.

His disappointment didn't last long, though. Yuuri seemed to have taken the matters in his own hands, because then Victor felt it: a soft slap of Yuuri's hand against his ass.

He twitched in surprise, eyes wide and cheeks just a tad more pink than before. His gaze immediately honed in on the unmistakable smirk on Yuuri's face. With flushed from exertion cheeks, shiny eyes and lips still wet from the water he'd just downed, Yuuri looked like the personification of Eros that Victor could never resist. Now was another one of those times.

"See you at home," Yuuri said before Victor could force a single word out.

Without waiting for a reply, Yuuri was already skating towards the exit. Oh no, Victor thought, not this time.

"Vitya!" Yakov's voice snapped him to attention.

Scrambling off the ice with a short "I'll be right back, Yakov!" Victor pushed himself after Yuuri. Running in skates was difficult, so he powerwalked into the changing room where Yuuri had hidden from him only to find him sitting on a bench with his skates already torn off. Yuuri was trying to pretend he was casually changing, but Victor knew him better than that: Yuuri never treated his skates like that.

"Victor?" Yuuri asked, faking confusion. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," Victor breathed.

Yuuri didn't get a chance to ask what, because in two long strides Victor was right in front of him. He crawled into Yuuri's lap, pulling Yuuri's face up, and, automatically, Yuuri's arms wrapped around his waist to steady him. It was no accident this time – and neither were the ones before, if Victor wasn't sure of it before, now he most definitely was – that both of Yuuri's hands had landed right on Victor's ass.

Victor almost whined when they squeezed and pulled him a tiny bit closer, the slide of his crotch against Yuuri's both heaven and hell.

"You've been teasing me for so long," Victor complained. "I can't take it anymore."

"What do you mean teas–"

But Victor wasn't in the mood to play the game anymore. He kissed Yuuri, hard and needy, and ground down into his hands, into his lap, a clear tell of what exactly it was that he wanted. And Yuuri must have understood it well, because the light grip tightened and Yuuri's fingers dipped firmly into the crack of Victor's ass. With a groan, Victor broke the kiss.

The innocent act broken, Yuuri pressed a kiss against Victor's jaw, and then the side of his neck, mouthing up until he could whisper in his ear:

"Isn't it the boyfriend's prerogative to be able to tap this anytime?"

To mark his words, he squeezed at Victor's ass and then pulled his hand back to give it a firm slap. Victor whined, shameless and wanting, because _yes, it was_ , whenever Yuuri wanted, however Yuuri wanted – Victor was ready to give him anything, everything, and yet...

...there was one thing about it that irked him the wrong way, though.

"Fiancé's," he corrected with a small frown. "Way higher in hierarchy."

He wrapped his arms around Yuuri's shoulders, pulling a bit at the ends of Yuuri's grown out hair. Yuuri huffed a laugh against Victor's neck, right where Victor loved it. Yuuri's hot breath made him shiver in want.

"Do I get some added benefits from that then?"

Victor hummed, sliding fully against Yuuri and rubbing their crotches flush against each other. Yuuri's hands tightened on his ass, a feeling that made Victor's insides warm up even more. He pushed Yuuri's chin up with a hand again, simply to look in his eyes when he said:

"You get to marry me and tap that ass for the rest of your life. Not good enough?"

Yuuri's grin was smoldering as he leaned up to kiss Victor right on the mouth. "It doesn't get more perfect than that."

Victor found himself grinning just as hard into the kiss, even when his sweats and underwear were pushed down and Yuuri's hands spread his bare ass open. His mind continued to echo Yuuri's words, because no – it doesn't get any more perfect than that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smack that all on the floor smack that give me some more smack that till you get sore mmmm ;3c


	2. cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Yuuri's turn to make dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 2 of [domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: cooking  
> sorry about the tense shift, I'm really inconsistent these days what can u do ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

The first thing that reaches Victor's ears when he wakes up from his afternoon nap is the distinct sound of sniffling. He blinks sleepily. For a moment his head is too hazy to react and Makkachin is a warm weight that pulls him right back into the arms of sleep, so he gives into it for another moment before he hears it again: muffled and quiet, but _there_.

Yuuri isn't anywhere in sight, but the thought that he might be somewhere in the house crying his eyes out while Victor is napping wakes him up better than any caffeinated drink could. Gently, Victor extracts himself from underneath Makkachin. He earns himself a sleepy blink, but a single pat to the fluffy head has Makka falling back into blissful sleep.

Victor creeps over to the kitchen. Yuuri's in charge of dinner tonight, so while Victor was taking his personal cuddle time with Makka to the next level, Yuuri's been working on preparing their food. Or at least he was supposed to, because the sound of sniffling makes Victor's hair stand on the ends with worry.

"Yuuri?" he asks carefully, stopping in the doorway.

Yuuri's back is turned towards him, but he can see the frustrated way he's wiping at his eyes with one hand. He's holding a knife in the other and fear clings to Victor's heart like a curse. Before he knows it, he's closing his arms around Yuuri, hugging him tight and slowly plucking the knife out of Yuuri's fingers. Yuuri gives into it without a fuss, which definitely doesn't make Victor's worry disappear.

"Are you alright, love? Did something happen?" he asks again.

Yuuri shakes his head. "No, no, I'm fine."

He settles into Victor's arms with a small sigh. Now, with both hands free, he rubs his fists into his eyes. Victor's arms tighten around him protectively.

"You're crying," Victor points out, and when Yuuri turns his head to him it's obvious he's right. There are wet streaks on Yuuri's face, his eyes are red and puffy, and his eyelashes are all clumpy with tears. "That doesn't look like you're fine."

Victor lifts a hand and brushes away the wetness from Yuuri's cheeks. Yuuri gives him a smile. It's sweet and tender, definitely not a smile of someone who is sad. And it definitely doesn't look like Yuuri's trying to be brave, to pretend; it's an honest smile. Now Victor's not only worried, but also confused.

"I really am fine, though," Yuuri says. "No need to worry."

He leans in and gives Victor a little kiss. Victor hums. If Yuuri is trying to distract him, it's working for sure, but... Victor isn't so easily fooled. Especially when it comes to Yuuri's wellbeing.

"You'd tell me if there was something wrong, right?" he asks again, and Yuuri nods. "So if nothing is bothering you, why the tears?"

A small huff leaves Yuuri's lips. He sounds amused and annoyed at the same time. Victor wonders if maybe he's the reason for this. It would explain why Yuuri doesn't want him to know. But if that was true, Yuuri already would've shrugged him off. Instead, he's leaning into Victor's embrace, comfortable and at peace, which gives Victor's mind even more unhelpful doubts.

That is, until Yuuri picks a piece of something from the counter and offers it to Victor, who doesn't think twice before he obediently opens his mouth to accept the treat. Except, it isn't a treat at all.

His nose wrinkles at the taste.

"Just cutting some onions for the soup," Yuuri says and laughs at the face Victor must be making. "Told you, I'm fine."

All worry disappears from Victor's heart at that. Sadly, the taste of the onion on his tongue doesn't. He rolls it inside his mouth and makes another face. Yuuri laughs at him, even as his eyes water again.

"You worry too much," Yuuri tells Victor and gives him a small kiss.

"Of course I worry," Victor refutes. "I want you to be happy, always. But if you aren't for some reason, I want to be there for you to lean on. I want to be someone who you can come to with all your problems. Or even just a shoulder to cry on. Whatever you need."

Yuuri's hand is gentle when he runs it through Victor's fringe, pulling it back as he settles his hand on the side of Victor's face. His smile is just as gentle, and it's sweet, too. Even the red, puffy eyes don't make Yuuri any less beautiful in that moment and Victor feels the love thrum softly in his veins like a faraway marching band's rendition of Wagner's Bridal Chorus.

"Thank you," Yuuri says and his voice sounds like soft wedding bells. Victor's in–

"Love you," he chirps, smile wide and happy.

He kisses Yuuri's cheek once, twice, three times, until Yuuri pushes him away, laughing.

"I still need to get the onions cut, stop that," he chides him.

Victor wastes no time in sliding next to Yuuri and grabbing the knife. He gives Yuuri's cheek one more kiss, smiles at him brilliantly and bumps him over with his hip.

"I'll do the onions, you do the rest," he says. "Can't have my beautiful fiancé crying his eyes out on something like this."

Yuuri's cheeks flush at that and Victor can't help it when he leans over for just one more kiss against Yuuri's warm skin. Before he can press his lips to it, though, Yuuri tilts his head and catches Victor's kiss with his mouth. With the same ease, he lets Victor go and moves around the kitchen to pull out a big pot from one of the cupboards.

Grinning happily, Victor turns the knife in his hand and looks down at the cause of all of this:

_Thanks, onion_ , he thinks, and slashes it into pieces.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hc that yuuri is one of those ppl who cry while chopping onions and victor powers thru it just so he can keep his beauty from bawling his eyes out


	3. alone time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just can't get it on, Victor finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 3 of [domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: alone time  
> beware of wild nsfw below ;3c

 

"Ah, Victor... Good, that's–"

It doesn't take much for Victor to feel the blissful shiver Yuuri's praise always offers, but kneeling between Yuuri's legs and worshipping Yuuri's thick cock with his mouth definitely takes the cake over everything else. The taste of Yuuri's desire on his tongue is just a sweet cherry on top of it all. Victor hums, taking the shaft deeper with a lewd slurp.

"... _good_ ," Yuuri moans.

His hand is clenched tight in Victor's hair, a guiding pull that tells Victor how fast to go, how badly Yuuri needs him. It's heady, this kind of power he has, paired with the willing submission he offers to Yuuri's every tug. It's easy to lose himself in it and Victor does so without any qualms.

"So good..."

Victor can't agree more. That is, until–

Yuuri groans, a sound far from pleasure.

"Ah, I completely forgot," he says. His breaths are heavy, still, but the matter of fact tone of voice catches Victor by surprise. "Yurio asked me to tell you that Yakov will be away for business for the next two days, so you'll have to practice alone."

Yuuri's cock is heavy and hot on Victor's tongue. Victor's eyes are glazed with pleasure and he's rutting his hips into his own hand, desperate for more friction.

Or he was. A second ago. Because now he pulls off of Yuuri's thick girth, lips red, shiny and wanting.

"Can we please not talk about _Yakov_ right now?" he whines. "Actually, any guy. Or girl. Or _anything_ , really." He pouts a little. "Am I doing such a bad job that you have to let your mind wander?"

"Sorry, sorry," Yuuri rushes to say, cheeks just a tad bit redder. It's cute. And yet, Victor doesn't feel satisfied at all. "I just wanted to tell you before I forget. You can go on, I won't interrupt again. Promise."

Victor hums. He gives Yuuri's cock a squeeze and watches gleefully as Yuuri's mouth parts on a moan.

"I don't know if I believe you," Victor says, sulking.

"I promise, okay? I promise," Yuuri quickly says, tugging a little at Victor's hair to push him onto his cock once more. "Come on, Victor, I need you."

"Show me." Victor looks up, eyes burning. "Show me how bad you need my mouth on you."

He puts his lips against the head of Yuuri's cock, opens his mouth fully and stills. Yuuri is frozen for a bit longer, almost breathless in the expectant silence of Victor's position, but then he seems to get it. He shifts his hips and pushes past Victor's slack lips.

The slide of his cock into Victor's mouth is slow at first, careful, controlled. It doesn't take long for Yuuri to lose himself, though. Just like Victor expected it all along. Little by little the thrusts become more erratic, pushing into Victor with more force, more passion. This is what he likes. This is what he wants. For Yuuri to focus on fucking deep into Victor's throat and _only_ that.

"You're so good to me, Victor," Yuuri tells him. "Your mouth is so hot, so wet... Can't get enough, ahh..."

Scratch that. The only thing Victor wants is the rough slide of Yuuri's cock on his tongue _and_ Yuuri's praise. Victor loves it. Victor _lives for it_.

He needs more.

"Yes, good, just like that..." Yuuri moans when Victor begins to suck on him in earnest again. "You're taking me so well, look at you, Vic–"

Victor moans and Yuuri echoes, breaking off his rambling and sliding even deeper into Victor's mouth. He can feel Yuuri at the base of his throat with each move of his hips and it chokes the breath out of his lungs faster than he can replace it. He's getting lightheaded, Victor knows. The world gets blurry, probably with tears of effort, but it feels so good...

"You won't be able to talk tomorrow, won't you?" Yuuri asks when Victor's throat swallows around the head of his cock that's sunk so deep into Victor's mouth that he can feel Yuuri's balls brush against his chin with every thrust. "How will you even coach me? We should probably stop. Victor, this isn't a–"

There is no way Victor will let him stop now, so he pinches the underside of Yuuri's thigh. And hard. He expects a yelp, maybe a stutter of Yuuri's hips and he slacks his throat as much as he can, but what happens next isn't what he imagined – Yuuri's cock twitches inside him, and with a startled cry Yuuri comes right into Victor's throat.

It's hot and suddenly too much, and Victor gags. He immediately pulls off Yuuri's cock, but Yuuri's still coming and Victor's face gets a good load of it, too, before Yuuri slumps back onto the bed, spent. Victor coughs. Yuuri's cum is carelessly spilling out of his mouth. He swallows whatever is left and clumsily wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He's filthy, but his own cock aches for release now and that's more important than anything else. He can't wait any longer.

Victor climbs onto Yuuri, settles right over his face and begins stroking himself while looking down at Yuuri's flushed, panting face.

"Come on," Yuuri says, licking his lips. "Come for me, Victor."

Yuuri's eyes are a beautiful burnt chestnut, still dark with lust, but soft with love as well. Victor adores them. _He adores him._

His hand moves faster. It's too soon when he comes, he wanted to savour the moment, to watch Yuuri twitch with desire again, but he really doesn't have the stamina that Yuuri has. With a choked sob, cum all over his face, the taste of Yuuri still on his tongue, and a hand fisted around his red, red cock, Victor comes all over Yuuri's face and glasses in sweet revenge for before.

Later, when they're both lying there spent and panting, Victor laughs a little.

"You really think too much during sex, Yuuri," he says lightly.

Yuuri's ears flush delicately. It's precious.

"If I didn't think of something else I would never let you leave the bed," Yuuri confesses.

And Victor's heart stops. _God, yes, please_ , he thinks in breathless stillness.

"Wreck me, Yuuri," he says out loud.

Yuuri's smile is a promise of its own. One that Victor can't wait to be fulfilled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love stuffing vitya's mouth full of love what can I say ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	4. cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're just _so tired_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 4 of [@domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: cuddles

 

"I can't move," Victor complains, sprawled all over Yuuri.

They're on the couch, barely home from practice, and they're both exhausted. Yuuri collapsed first after walking the few steps needed to fall back onto the plush pillows and Victor didn't even care for much else when he slumped on top of him, just as lifeless. Now, Yuuri's hip is poking Victor's stomach uncomfortably and he's pretty sure that he elbowed Yuuri in the ribs at least twice while he was trying to shift their position to something more acceptable, but... he's too tired. He can't bother.

And neither can Yuuri, it seems, and it has nothing to do with Victor's weight pinning him to the cushions.

"Let's just sleep here tonight," Yuuri says, voice a resigned monotone.

"That is the best idea you've ever had, my Yuuri," Victor agrees.

He lifts his chin off Yuuri's chest and lays his cheek on it instead. Yuuri's breathing is soft. His chest moves under Victor's head, slowly up and down. It feels a little like being on a ship where he's lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the boat, except now he's home, he's on land, and Yuuri's chest is far from a comfortable place to sleep on, no matter how romantic Victor makes it sound.

Suddenly, Yuuri groans.

"Makkachin," he says and Victor suddenly remembers that they have a dog, too. "Someone has to walk Makka."

"I'm not moving," Victor groans back.

He knows he's being rude to his faithful companion. Makkachin deserves only the best. But really, he's so tired...

"I can't move if you don't move," Yuuri points out to him.

That, that makes sense. Victor agrees. If Yuuri's offering to go, Victor would gladly let him. And still...

"No," Victor finally gives. "I can't. Sorry. All systems are down. Nikiforov.exe has stopped responding. Try again tomorrow, please."

Yuuri's snort feels like a kiss of wind in Victor's hair. He doesn't even have the strength to enjoy it. Ah, he's so tired he feels like he's going to cry.

"I'm too tired to even laugh," Yuuri mourns.

"Better that than feeling like crying," Victor mumbles.

"Are you going to?" Yuuri asks. "Because if you are, I'll probably join you. We can have a pity party on this couch, cry our eyes out and then wake up in the morning with kinks in our muscles and puffy eyes. Should we call Yakov and back out of practice now?"

Victor has a reply on his tongue all ready when Makkachin butts his elbow up a little impatiently. It jostles him from his almost-asleep position and he groans. They can't. No crying. No parties. Only a duty, after duty, after duty...

"Five more minutes, Makkachin," Victor begs.

The dog must have understood, because when Victor cracks his eyes open he's right there: sitting by his elbow and panting expectantly as if he understood what five minutes means. Yuuri's hand slaps Victor's back in what Victor thinks was meant as a pat – it isn't. Yuuri has as little strength as he does and so, instead of a gentle touch it turns into a full on slap when his lifted hand just limply falls back down.

Not that Victor has the energy to pout about it.

"I'll take him out," Yuuri says. "Just let me up."

Victor groans. "Can't move."

His legs feel like lead. His feet are hot. His knees... he doesn't even have knees at this point, he thinks.

"Come on, Vitya," Yuuri whines and if Victor wasn't so tried he would've called him out on his bullshit. Yuuri only ever calls him that when he isn't playing fair and usually Victor adores it and plays along, but now... he's just _so tired_. "Moooove..."

Victor groans again, and once more when Yuuri tries to push at his shoulder to make him get up. If they were in their bed he'd simply roll off and let Yuuri go, but the couch is far smaller. There's no space. Victor has to get up.

He pushes himself up on his hands with a painful groan. He's swaying on his feet and when Yuuri gets up, he immediately plops right back down onto the couch – face first. Yuuri's hand passes through his hair in an "I'm off" gesture to which Victor only grunts. His eyes are already closing, so by the time Yuuri and Makka leave, he's falling asleep and by the time they return he's snoring softly into the back of the couch where he'd nuzzled himself in search for warmth.

Victor doesn't hear Yuuri feeding Makkachin, doesn't hear them walking around, doesn't even hear Yuuri calling his name when he tries to wake him up. He feels it when Yuuri picks him up off the couch, though. That's what wakes him up, if only just a little.

"Yuu... ri?" he yawns into Yuuri's neck. His skin is warm and Victor wants nothing more than to press himself flush against it and sleep forever.

"Sleep, Vitya," Yuuri tells him. "It's alright. I've got you."

Victor's mind is blank, thoughts are difficult, and he barely registers being laid down on something soft. Their bed. Probably. He turns over to the side and his face finds the familiar slope of his pillow. He sighs just as the bed dips on the other side. A blanket is thrown over Victor's shoulders and then Yuuri's arm joins it, holding Victor close and safe.

"Goodnight," Yuuri mumbles.

Victor doesn't understand the words, but he grunts in reply and then falls asleep. In the morning, he wakes up to Yuuri sprawled over three-fourths of the bed. He yawns, covers him with the blanket, takes Makkachin for his walk, and, after, makes the breakfast just like Yuuri likes it: with grilled fish and rice and a steaming mug of genmaicha. 

Yuuri comes into the kitchen with a bedhead that makes Victor think "Wow, amazing!" and Victor grins bright and says:

"Good morning, sunshine! How did you sleep?"

As it always it, Yuuri grunts and shuts him up with a kiss.

It's simple, this routine they have, but it works and it's theirs, and as Victor watches Yuuri sleepily sip on his tea he can't help smiling to himself at the love and life that can be found in the most mundane of things – it's precious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yuuri is A Strong™️ and I am a firm believer in vitya loving it when he princess carries him around


	5. rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just dancing in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 5 of [@domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: rain

 

Yuuri never enjoyed rain. Everything got wet and the world seemed just a tad too gray, too muddy and too blurry. People rushed around more than usual without even apologizing when they bumped into someone in their haste. For years, Yuuri holed himself up in his room when the skies rumbled, or took shelter in the safe chill of the rink, and waited out the downpours as best as he could.

And then Victor came into his life and turned his world around.

"Yuuri, come join us!"

Standing under the small overhead nook the nearby building provided, Yuuri watched Victor twirl in the rain. He couldn't see much more than Victor's blurry figure, since his glasses – useless in the rain, as always – were sitting on top of his head instead, but even impaired like that he knew that Victor was already soaked dry. They both were. And Yuuri didn't necessarily feel like getting any more water on his person.

But Victor – with hair plastered to his face, water running down his cheeks and fresh droplets hitting his nose, still – didn't share those same worries. Makkachin was jumping up and down around him, splashing in the small puddles that had already formed on the uneven pavement. There was bound to be water in Victor's shoes at this point, but Victor's smile was as big as it could get.

He looked happy. So happy that Yuuri couldn't help his own grin.

"Yuuri, come on!" Victor called again. He offered Yuuri a hand, expectant and bright, so excited and giddy that unknowingly, Yuuri had already been reaching for him without prompting. "Dance with me!"

Not a noise of protest came from Yuuri when Victor pulled him close, took his hand in a practiced grip and kicked off in a waltz spin. Yuuri's shoes slipped on the wet stone, but Victor's arms were there to support him, so he barely stumbled out of rhythm before falling into step with Victor once more. Water splashed around them when their feet crashed into puddles, when the heavy rain soaked through their clothes, but Victor's grin was infectious as he leaned his wet head against Yuuri's.

"Isn't this so much fun?" Victor asked, oozing with happiness that made Yuuri's heart warm over. "I love rain, it makes you do silly things."

Yuuri laughed a little into Victor's shoulder. He took the next step first, taking the lead out of Victor's hands with practiced ease. The way Victor adapted to the change was just as familiar, a soft burn of fondness inside Yuuri's chest.

"You do silly things even without the rain," Yuuri pointed out, smiling.

"I do, don't I?" Victor's grin didn't waver. Someone else might've thought it would be the time to be embarrassed, ashamed, but Victor shone with pride that was mirrored in Yuuri's eyes whenever he looked at him. "But that's different! What I do, I do out of love, and this! This is rain, Yuuri!"

Yuuri laughed again, cheeks tinted pink.

"Yes, yes, I've heard you," Yuuri said. "You love rain."

He twirled them around, and around, and around, a fast series of spins, until they stopped and Yuuri's hand shifted lower on Victor's back when he dipped him, grinning at the dazed, overjoyed look on Victor's face. The buzzy feeling in his chest was too much to resist, so Yuuri leaned down and kissed the tip of Victor's wet nose, which earned him a high pitched coo and a lovable squeal of "Yuuri!"

"Let's get home before either of us catches a cold," Yuuri proposed, pulling Victor up.

But Victor didn't step back once he had. In fact, he took Yuuri's wet face in his hands and leaned down to press a kiss against Yuuri's cold, wet lips.

"I love you," Victor said, meltingly fond, and affection tightened Yuuri's throat.

"More than the rain?" Yuuri asked teasingly.

The corner of Victor's mouth lifted and his thumb pressed against Yuuri's bottom lip.

"More than anything in the world," Victor said. And then hummed. "Maybe except Makkachin."

Yuuri huffed a soft laugh, taking Victor's hand and pressing a kiss to his palm. Makka sat at their feet, wagging his wet tail on the wet pavement and booffing at his name being called. Yuuri smiled at him and the wagging got even more intense, splashing water left and right.

"I can live with that, I think," Yuuri judged, matching Victor's big smile with one of his own.

Still holding hands, since they both refused to let go, they made their way back home. It was a few streets later when Yuuri's mind came back to what Victor had said and he looked over. Victor must have sensed it, because he turned to Yuuri just then too, smiling, and squeezed his hand lightly.

"You know," Yuuri said, already able to predict Victor's reaction. "I hate rain."

Victor gasped. Yuuri grinned.

"After all we've been through–" Victor started, but Yuuri wasn't listening.

"First one home takes the shower!"

He slipped his glasses back onto his nose and took off without waiting for Victor to finish the sentence. Makkachin was hot on his trail, barking playfully, while somewhere in the back Victor called his name in that scandalized, but overjoyed voice that always made Yuuri blush.

Maybe they made it home at the same time. Maybe Victor's hands found Yuuri's waist and pushed Yuuri against the closed door while they kissed the rain off each other's skin. Maybe the discarded, wet clothes stayed on the floor longer than either of them had planned. Maybe they took that shower together, because that was the true game, the true win.

And maybe, snuggled under the covers next to Victor, warm and sated, and listening to the soft pitter-patter of the rain on the windowsill Yuuri thought that rain was not that bad, after all.

Maybe.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then they both got sick. fools.  
> the end.


	6. closeness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri gets sick. Victor's the best nurse he could ever ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 6 of [@domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: closeness

 

It was hard to get their different schedules to align, but they somehow did it: Victor walked Makkachin in the mornings while Yuuri made breakfast and lunch; till midday Yuuri practiced his programs, jumps and spins under Victor's watchful eye and then, afterwards, he left for ballet practice while Yakov wrangled Victor back into shape; and in the evenings, twice a week, they hit the gym so Yuuri could praise Victor's strength as he bench pressed weights more than his own and Victor – so he could try really hard not to drool at Yuuri's thighs and imagine how it felt to crawl between them every night.

It wasn't ideal, Victor would complain. They didn't spend as much time together as he'd like, but it was what worked for them. Which was why it was so surprising for him to come home and find 1) Yuuri nowhere in sight, and 2) Yurio sprawled on their couch, playing a game on his phone.

A step into the door, Victor blinked, confused.

"Yurio! What are you doing here?" he asked, already being accosted by an excited Makkachin who attacked him with 'welcome home' smooches. Laughing, Victor knelt down to hug him and give him all the scratches he was so starved for. "Where's Yuuri?"

"Now that you're here, I'm going home," Yurio said.

There was a disgruntled edge to his voice. Victor looked up to see a mighty scowl on his face like it happened so often. This time, though, it was edging on worried, and the same worry instantly settled in Victor's heart. Before he could ask, Yurio was speaking again:

"The idiot's got a fever," he bit out. "Almost fainted in practice. I had to haul his ass all the way here, so make sure he lives or I'll bring him back to life just so I can kick him over to the other side myself."

"Wait, you mean Yuuri?" Victor asked, moving out of the way when Yurio pushed past him to grab his jacket and tug on his shoes. "He's sick? Why didn't he tell me? And why didn't you call me?"

Yurio shrugged. "I gave him some pills, he's sleeping now. You better call Yakov if you're gonna skip practice, I don't want him chewing _my_ head off tomorrow."

He gave Makkachin's head a single pat and was out of the door, leaving Victor to recover from the shock all on his own. Victor turned from the doorway with a worried frown. Yuuri was _sick_ and _he never said a word about it_. Sucking in an breath on the verge of exasperation, Victor pursed his lips, kicked off his shoes and, on the way to the bedroom, threw his coat over the back of the couch with such force it tumbled off on the other side... not that he noticed. Or cared.

All the anger he'd built up during his short powerwalk disappeared the moment he saw Yuuri. Among the white sheets, Yuuri's face looked red and sweaty, broken with fever. His mouth was open, gasping for breath in his quiet suffering. But more than that, what struck Victor's heart with a warm arrow of love and dispersed the last of his upset, was the way Yuuri had nuzzled his face into Victor's pillow: fragile and longing for Victor's comfort even when he was all but unconscious.

How could Victor stay mad when Yuuri needed him?

"Oh, my love," Victor cooed, coming around the bed to sit at Yuuri's side. He brushed Yuuri's sweaty hair off his forehead. His skin burned. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well?"

Yuuri stirred, as if Victor's voice had woken him, as if his touch gave him some clarity. Brown, bleary eyes blinked open slowly. Victor knew that without his contacts or glasses Yuuri could only see blurry colours and shapes, which must have been even worse with the haze of the fever. He crooned softly in concern to which Yuuri responded with a groan so pained that Victor couldn't help but bend to press his lips to his searing temple.

"I want to die," Yuuri mumbled.

He sounded hoarse, broken, and Victor's heart tightened. He softly stroked Yuuri's hair.

"You'll be alright, my Yuuri," he said. "It's just a fever. It'll break soon and then you'll be happy you lived through it."

Yuuri's nose scrunched up. He closed his eyes and simply breathed for a few moments, before he repeated: "Just let me die."

Victor's lips quirked in a smile. "Not on my watch, sweetheart."

There was no response from Yuuri as if he'd fallen asleep again, but when Victor stood up to wet some clean cloth to help fight the fever, Yuuri's voice stopped him.

"Victor?"  

He sounded confused, a little lost, like he wasn't fully aware of what was happening and only now realized that Victor was even there. Victor smiled to himself a little, touched his knuckles to Yuuri's red, hot cheek, and asked:

"Yes, Yuuri?"

Blindly, Yuuri reached for Victor's hand and took it. His lips were as hot as his skin when he pressed them to Victor's fingers, but the gesture was sweet anyway. Victor would've cooed if not for the raspy, harsh breathing that was coming from Yuuri. His poor, darling Yuuri...

"I love you," Yuuri mumbled into the pillow, still holding Victor's hand and bringing it to rest next to his face as he curled on himself and slipped back into sleep.

Victor knelt next to the bed, careful not to move the hand Yuuri was cradling. For just a moment, he told himself while he sat back, watching Yuuri's face as Yuuri slipped back into sleep. He gently turned their hands around to leave a kiss on Yuuri's knuckles as well. Yuuri didn't stir this time, and he didn't stir when Victor let go a few minutes later either.

For just a moment, Victor reminded himself.

He grabbed all that he needed, did all that he had to do, and then returned to his Yuuri, sitting right there beside him: on the floor, holding Yuuri's hand, with his cheek smushed on the edge of the mattress.

In the morning, when the fever broke completely, Victor was woken up with tender fingers threading through his hair and Yuuri's eyes looking down at him with fondness as hot as his fever had burned through the night. Victor's ass hurt, his back hurt, his neck had a kink to it from how it was twisted as he slept at a weird, horrible angle, but when Yuuri pressed another "I love you," into Victor's temple, Victor could not even begin to regret it. It was more than worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //melts


	7. free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor lays on the sugar and honey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for day 7 of [@domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com/), prompt: free  
> this is the last work I've prepared for this event, hope yall enjoyed all of them and see you during [@victuuri-week](http://victuuri-week.tumblr.com/)~ //winkwonk

 

It starts innocent. Deceivingly innocent.

"Muffin, do you remember where I put the nail file? I can't seem to find it anywhere," Victor asks, going through his beauty drawers once again in case he somehow missed it.

When Yuuri doesn't reply, Victor walks out of the room to find Yuuri seated on the couch and staring straight at him with his mouth partly open. Victor has no idea why, but Yuuri takes one look at Victor and he instantly breaks into laughter.

Victor blinks.

"What?" he asks, confused. "Do I have something on my face?"

He lifts a hand to check, but drops it when Yuuri shakes his head, still chuckling.

"Muffin? _Really_?" Yuuri asks.

His eyes are squinted with amusement. He's trying to stop his giggling, not that Victor minds. Yuuri's laughing face is sweet, and precious, and even if he's laughing at Victor's expense it's well worth it. Somehow, only now, Victor realizes that the pet name he used could be considered a little embarrassing, but...

Victor liked it when he said it. It rolled off his tongue like it belonged there.

Actually, he wouldn't mind using it again.

"You don't like it?" he asks to make sure he won't be making Yuuri uncomfortable if he chooses to give into temptation to call his darling the most ridiculous of things.

Yuuri shrugs at that.

"I don't really think it fits me, because it sounds so cute, but if you want to use it then I don't mind."

Victor smiles, happy. His smile disappears just as fast, though, when he registers the first part of what Yuuri's said. He frowns.

"What do you mean you don't think it fits because it's cute? It's exactly because of that that it fits you perfectly! You're the cutest, sweetest, kindest, most precious person I know," Victor says, watching with growing delight how Yuuri's cheeks flush after every new adjective he finds. _Good._

Yuuri's mouth opens as if he wants to argue, but then he decides against it. He closes it, smiles, and gives a soft: "If you say so."

"Yes, I do," Victor nods, satisfied.

And that's that.

Except, _it really isn't._

Victor knows that Yuuri hasn't truly accepted what he said, so he sets out to shower him in his love as best as he can. And if anyone knows Victor Nikiforov, they know that he can _a lot_.

"Bunny, can you pass me the remote?" he asks when they're watching the TV, cuddled together on the couch.

"You don't need to push yourself too far, we still have time, honeybee," Victor tells him when Yuuri's irritation on the ice turns into a flopped jump one after another.

"There's still some leftover salad in the fridge if you want, sweetcheeks," he offers when Yuuri's stomach growls a second after they finally settle down for the night.

"Pumpkin, do you think I should get a haircut?" Victor asks in the mornings, running a hand through his hair. Yuuri's usually too sleepy to reply, so he gives Victor's stubbly jaw a sloppy kiss, and Victor grins: "You're the cutest in the mornings, sugarbun."

"It doesn't have to taste good, not yet. Just try it once, lovebud? Please? For me?" Victor begs, pressing a forkful of some Russian dish or another against Yuuri's lips. As always, that's all it takes for Yuuri to cave.

"Snugglebear, it's time to wake up," Victor croons, nosing at Yuuri's warm neck a few seconds after he turns off their alarm. Yuuri's sleep warm and cuddly, and Victor wants nothing more that to keep spooning him until they can both wake up enough to exchange slow, soft kisses like they do on their days off. Sadly, it's not one of those days and they need to get up, and so he tries.

"Come on, honey wiggles," Victor squeezes at Yuuri's hip. His hand sneaks under Yuuri's pyjama shirt and rests on Yuuri's warm, warm stomach while Victor leans down to kiss Yuuri's temple. "Up with you, or I'll have to use Makkachin against you."

Yuuri never laughs at the names again. Victor counts that as a win. More than that, even: it's a win, so of course he feels proud of himself, but it also feels like every single one of those silly little things he's calling Yuuri now is another kiss he shares with him without as much as touching him. It's nice. It's domestic. It's loving. And Yuuri's small smiles and delicately blushing cheeks are everything to Victor, as he keeps on laying the sugar and honey in thick, generous heaps onto Yuuri's darling head.

That is, until Yuuri finally has enough.

"Cuddlywumpkus," Victor starts one day, stirring Yuuri's tea, "do you think we should–"

"Where do you even get those?" Yuuri whines before Victor is even finished talking.

His face is hidden in his hands, but Victor can see the obviously red tips of Yuuri's cute ears. _Oh_ , he thinks while a wide grin spreads on his face. Victor chuckles.

"There's so many websites with lists of pet names," he gives. He takes the mug and sets it on the table before he sits next to Yuuri. "Some of them are pretty ridiculous, but they also sound cute? Like pookieschmoo. Isn't that just adorable?"

Yuuri makes an incoherent sound into his hands. When he lifts his head, he's flushed, still. It's a fetching look on him and Victor can't help it, really – he leans in to press a little kiss to Yuuri's cheek. Yuuri's mouth quirks at that, even if it's small.

"What does that even mean?" he asks.

Victor shrugs. "No idea. I think it's just gibberish, but it sounds a bit like the nonsense words you use when you're talking to a dog, doesn't it?"

Yuuri's smile widens.

"So, what? I'm a dog now?" Yuuri asks, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. Suddenly, Victor really wants to kiss him silly.

"Isn't that the best compliment there is?" Victor asks back. He tilts his head and smiles, and it doesn't take long for Yuuri to return it: a fond, sweet smile that makes Victor's heart full and happy.

"Yeah," Yuuri agrees. "It is."

And then he adds: "Boodlyboopikins."

They snort at the same time. It's just too much.

But when Yuuri leans over and steals Victor's laughter right off his lips, Victor can't think of any reason to break this little habit. After all, he loves his _kwaftykaboodle_ way too much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excuse me while I go drink straight lemon juice bc this is giving me diabetes


End file.
